His Vice
by x-ephmrl-x
Summary: He didn't mean to fall. No one ever means to really. But love was weakness— his mother's words, and he swore by them. He had his flings of course, living as reckless young adult. They didn't last long, leaving his last more than heart broken. Then came that small incident. He didn't mean to fall for the ravenette. But he did. He fell hard. (Possible oneshot)


Heavy feet carried him quickly, turning the corner to hide behind the butcher shop. He pressed himself against the wall, making a barely successful attempt at blending in with the shadows. Oikawa tried to silence his leaden breaths, chest heaving up and down, hair damp with sweat, busted lip dripping blood. The stench of rotten meat burned his nose, breathing through his mouth didn't make things any better.

The brunet squeezed his eyes shut as he heard their voices near, the sound mixed with his heart thumping in his ears. They grew closer, louder. Boy, was he fucked. His body tensed. He could almost hear Iwaizumi at his funeral.

"_Dumbass shoulda asked for backup! Now he's sharing hair secrets with my great-aunt Chihiro. Tch_."

He clenched his fists to keep himself from laughing as he didn't want to get caught right away. Oikawa held his breath when he heard them again. This time, though, it sounded as if they were standing in front of him. But their voices faded— followed by their hurried footsteps— as they wondered where the male had disappeared to.

_Idiots_, he thought to himself, smirking. _Right under your noses, yet you still missed me_.

Oikawa relaxed, releasing the breath he'd been holding as his eyes opened, crouching down for a quick rest. He for sure was going to have his ass handed to him by Hajime once it'd been discovered he'd gone into Fukurōdani territory on his own. In fact, his role as leader of Seijō had been demoted by the gang for reckless actions such as this. Iwaizumi had been voted as the new head as he— to a certain degree— was more responsible than Tōru.

The memory almost made him chuckle when he remembered he was being looked for. Oikawa shook his head and stood, examining the rips in his leather jacket, his fingers covered in dried blue spray paint from the building he'd been vandalising before he'd gotten beaten and chased.

Just as he was about to make sure the coast was clear, a stranger stepped in front of him. Oikawa stumbled backwards, cursing under his breath as he desperately scanned the alley for a possible way out. The brunet faced his new opponent and took a second to study him. He was tall (maybe an inch or two shorter than Tōru himself), lean, no doubt quick on his feet. Switchblade in hand, gun at his hip— it'd take a miracle for the Seijō member to make it out alive. The raven's hair short hair was disheveled, stormy eyes were dangerous and serious as they bore into Oikawa's brown ones— the dimly lit area made it difficult to identify the color of the other's irises. He sported a jean jacket— sleeves had been torn off— along with a dark t-shirt and ripped, black pants.

"Bokuto wants your head on a platter, Oikawa," he muttered, playing around with the switchblade.

Oikawa did his best to maintain a calm façade, slowly pulling out his own pocket knife— risky move on his behalf, but he needed to be prepared. He may be an idiot, but he wasn't thick enough to cross onto enemy territory unarmed. The corner of his lip tugged upwards into a faint smirk. "I remember you. Akaashi, right? You don't talk much, but I know you're not someone to mess with."

"Ah, so you _do_ have some level of intelligence. Reassuring to know you have a brain as well as looks," Akaashi stated. His voice gave a hint of humor, his face was expressionless.

Tōru's lips parted before coming together a few times, a bit surprised. So he was cute and had a mouth too, huh? "Well, y'know what they say. There's more to me than meets the eye or whatever. Much, much more." He winked, grinning from ear to ear. The same cold look remained on Keiji's face, making Oikawa's smile waver for a second. The brunet cleared his throat, snapping and pointing his fingers. "Well, I'll be on my way. Have a lovely eve—"

Air was knocked out of his lungs, back hitting the brick wall before he could even finished taking a full step. A cold blade pressed against his throat, his eyes glinting with slight entertainment and a hint of fear. "Making moves already, are we? I didn't even get to take you— _hmph_!"

Akaashi rolled his eyes, covering the other's mouth with his hand. "Do you ever shut up?" He hissed, nodding his head towards the entrance of the alley. The group that'd been chasing Oikawa earlier walked past, cursing and trying to pick who was to blame for the brunet getting away. Both Keiji and Tōru tensed when they heard the others stop. If they got caught, they were both dead. Akaashi would be seen as a traitor for not outing Seijō's former leader.

A minute passed, then another awkward one, and the group left after deciding Hanamaki would be the one to take the blame. Akaashi let go of Oikawa, barely relaxing. "C'mon, I'm getting you out of here," he muttered, checking for a clear coast, and motioning for the other to follow.

Oikawa trailed behind cautiously, eyes narrowing. "Why are you letting me go? You're not tricking me are you, Keiji?"

"_Akaashi_," the raven hissed, not answering either of Oikawa's questions. Tōru opened his mouth to speak but decided against it, assuming Akaashi wouldn't have a problem letting him die if he spoke again. He'd just have to trust Akaashi.

The silence between them was deafening, the surrounding air more than tense. Both kept a tight grip on their blades in case they got attacked- or if one of them attacked the other.

Once at the border, they stared at each other (well, Keiji glared) without saying a word for a few more seconds. Oikawa was the first to speak of course, clearing his throat. "Hey, er, thanks I guess for—"

"Don't come back here again."

The brunet frowned. "I— what?"

"_Don't_ come back here again," Akaashi repeated, voice having more emphasis on the first three words.

Oikawa chuckled. "Okay." Keiji raised a suspecting brow. Tōru stepped over the fading borderline that'd been spray painted on the road years ago. He turned around and began walking away. He stopped, smirking and looked back atd Fukurōdani's member. "See ya! Same time tomorrow, yeah?" he called with a grin, not waiting for an answer as he ran off.

Akaashi shook his head with a sigh. A faint smile snuck its way upon his features. He let out a soft huff, his breath visible due to the chilly weather. "Same time tomorrow, Tōru."


End file.
